


In Strange Company

by Elizabeth Tudor (Liz_Tudor)



Category: Lupin III
Genre: And having a hard time fitting in, Chocolate covered almonds, F/M, Fic forecast: funny with a scattering of angst, Fixing the Fiat, Fujiko's annoyed, Gen, Goemon takes things literally, Goemon's new to the gang, Humor, Jigen's also kind of a shit, Making sure everyone remembers to eat, Moemon - Freeform, Mom Jigen, Squirrel - Freeform, The Lupin Gang is no place for a samurai, Very dangerous Moemon, bring an umbrella, disguises, it all works out in the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-11
Packaged: 2020-06-26 06:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19762693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz_Tudor/pseuds/Elizabeth%20Tudor
Summary: At the time, joining the Lupin gang had seemed like the clearest choice in the world. Faced with the bickering and chaos and uncertainty that characterized daily life with them though, Goemon had to wonder - what reason did he have, really, to stay?





	In Strange Company

In a speech Abraham Lincoln delivered at the height of the Civil War, he referred to the Southerners as fellow human beings who were in error. An elderly lady chastised him for not calling them irreconcilable enemies who must be destroyed.

“Why, madam,” Lincoln replied, “Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?”

~Robert Greene

**************************************************************************************************************************************

Jigen scowled at the underside of the Fiat. They'd gotten away with the loot, but the little car had been making unpleasant crunching noises and vibrating like an unbalanced washing machine all through their escape, and while they were relatively safe from prying eyes or unwanted judicial attention in the wilds of the Scottish highlands, there also wasn't much chance of getting it to a mechanic. He kind of wished he could've talked Fujiko into doing this; he was unlikely ever to admit it aloud, but she tended to be better at cars and engines than he was.

The crunch of gravel alerted him to someone coming up the driveway, and he waved a hand without bothering to look up.

"Hey Lup, pass me the torque, will ya?"

There was a pause long enough that he started frowning, and then, finally, his fingers closed around the cold steel handle. He brought it up to tighten the loose bolt he'd spotted...only to almost hit himself in the face with the heavy end of a breaker bar.

"What the hell, Lupin? That's not what I asked for!"

Scowling, he hauled himself out from under the Easter egg-sized car, only to be met with a narrow face wearing a faintly confused expression, framed by a cumulonimbus cloud of hair and voluminous traditional clothing.

Ah. Goemon. The honest-to-god samurai they'd picked up a scattering of months back. Jigen wasn't totally sure how he and Lupin had gone from attempting to kill each other to laughing like childhood pals, but he wasn't about to argue it. It wasn't like it had been 'best friends at first sight' the first time he had met Lupin either, after all, and that seemed to've worked out, if the last six or seven years were any indication. Since joining the gang though, the swordsman had been quiet and sullen, doing anything they asked of him, but going out of his way to avoid conversation or socializing. Jigen still wasn't quite sure what to make of him - though he thought he might be starting to get an idea of it.

"My apologies," the samurai demurred. "I was unsure which tool you meant."

"Don't worry 'bout it," Jigen muttered, grabbing the torque wrench from where he'd laid everything out on an old towel. "I got it."

"I would like to help," Goemon insisted. "You may need to describe the tools to me, since I don't know their proper names." Despite his words, his voice was absolutely flat.

"Suit yourself," the gunman shrugged, sliding back under the car. "The one I'm holding's a torque wrench."

"What part of the car is broken?"

"Not broken, but suspension's going," Jigen grunted, going back to trying to yank a rusted-on bolt loose.

"Suspension?"

"You didn't feel it, when we were driving? Car was bucking like a rodeo bull."

"That...is not supposed to happen."

"Nah, that's definitely not normal," Jigen panted, finally getting the bolt loose, and overshooting a little at the unexpected give. "Screwdriver, the flathead one," he requested, and added, "third from the left, the green handle."

Silently, the swordsman handed it to him, and took it again a minute later, after Jigen had pried the badly rusted washer off.

"Thanks. Oil can. The one that looks like a small watering can."

"Torque again."

"Pliers. The red handles."

"Wrench. The one on the end."

"Pliers. Blue ones this time."

"Squirrel. Any size."

There was no reply, and when Jigen glanced out from under the car a minute or two later, the samurai had gone. He shrugged, and went back to working. Probably the kid had gotten sick of watching him whack at loose parts on their rusty old pile of a car, and gone off to meditate or train or something. Jigen couldn't much blame him.

Another fifteen-ish minutes were enough to wrangle the bolts that had worked themselves loose and oil everything that squealed too loudly when he tried to move it, and Jigen was about ready to declare himself satisfied. It'd hold until they could get it to someone who actually knew what they were doing. Just a little more fine-tuning, and they should at least be able to drive without the teeth rattling out of their heads.

He was groping for the spanner when he heard the soft crunch of Goemon's wooden geta on gravel, and was about to ask the swordsman to hand it to him, when he felt the sword-calloused fingers firmly turn his hand palm-up and place something furry and writhing in it.

"Squirrel."

"Wha-AAAARRRGGGGHHH!"

The sound of Jigen's head colliding with the car's frame made a very distinct, hollow _thwack_ noise.

****************************************

The small hilltop was peaceful, only a bent and twisted tree and a melancholy breeze for company. Goemon was supposed to be meditating. He was trying to be meditating. He was failing. He was, instead, quietly seething.

He couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was being made sport of, that this gang of thieves had invited him along as some form of revenge for their first meeting, or as an amusement to them. The three of them were always laughing, about something, often in English or Italian or some other language he didn't recognize and couldn't speak, though after glancing at him, they'd switch back to Japanese. The consideration did little enough to help his mood.

He'd thought that he could learn from this group, that anyone talented enough to deceive him, to escape death at his hands so many times, had to have wisdom worth imparting. They had skill, certainly, but wisdom, he was beginning to have his doubts. Especially after this rubbish.

At the thought, he couldn't stop himself from gritting his teeth, and it was an effort to keep his palms flat on his lap. Jigen had been mocking him. He'd thought that the gunman was someone he could possibly respect, and be esteemed by in turn; a fellow warrior, even if he tended to behave foolishly around Lupin. But Jigen had been mocking him. He knew Goemon knew precious little about cars, hadn't even known the names of the tools he'd been using, and he'd made fun of that ignorance. The samurai had been pleased to think that he might actually be able to be of some use, but Jigen, did not, in fact, need a squirrel, had shouted and injured himself when Goemon had handed it to him.

In hindsight, he felt reprehensibly stupid, shame flushing down his back like a handful of warm watery mud clapped over his head. Of course you didn't use a squirrel for a mechanical job. That should have been obvious. But he hadn't stopped to think, had assumed that Jigen knew something he didn't.

Well. Of course Jigen knew something he didn't. He knew how to fix cars. And he, Goemon, was too dense even to recognize when he was being made fun of.

Goemon had felt out of place from the minute he'd agreed to join Lupin. It had seemed so easy, when they were laughing in the wreckage of the car, all his wrath turned to mirth when he realized just how ridiculous the situation was. Someone who could beat him without breaking a sweat, who could laugh about having been an inch from death - that was someone worth working with and learning from. It had been the obvious choice. But then they'd come here, to this strange, overcast country where he didn't speak the language and everything seemed to be made of rocks and mud, and Lupin and the rest of his entourage stuck out like a flock of brightly dressed birds in the gloom, cackling and squabbling over pointless things, and he was left wondering why he was here at all, if all they were going to do was sit around. Sometimes they attempted to include him in things, grabbing him by the shoulder or the arm to drag him over to whatever inanity they were currently hung up on, ignoring, or not noticing, the faint twitch as he had to stop himself from reacting on honed instinct, to break the arm or the ribs or the neck of anyone who dared try to attack him. Sometimes they left him ostensibly alone, but still unable to focus or meditate through the raucous clatter as they gossiped and chattered about anything that popped into their heads, until he wanted to storm out in sheer frustration. He still wasn't certain which was worse.

He was the only one of them who couldn't open a safe by ear, who couldn't speak multiple languages, who couldn't hotwire and pilot any vehicle they came across, or put together a convincing disguise from a necktie and a pair of tweezers, or tell someone's clothing sizes just by glancing at them. He was also the only one of them who had any skill at all with a sword, or who could walk a loosely strung clothesline from one building to another as easily as he'd move across the ground, or land on his feet after a thirty-foot fall, but that didn't comfort him. They had all known each other for several years, it seemed; if they'd needed a swordsman, why had they not found one before? They couldn't possibly have been waiting for him. So why was he here?

They were skilled in so many ways that he wasn't, and yet there were so many other ways in which they were lacking. Lupin was impulsive, and often changed his mind or had to change his strategy, rather than fully planning ahead as he should have. Fujiko and Jigen were quick to complain and disobey orders, often in front of Lupin himself. Jigen was irascible and openly insulting. Fujiko was self-centered, and did not work well with the others; he still wasn't sure why Lupin allowed her to stay when she was such a liability, unless the thief really was that easily led astray by his libido ( _like you were, you mean?_ ). The three of them quarreled, squabbled, and bickered like a flock of starlings until his head ached. They were undisciplined, irreverent, disorderly, and had no sense of unity as a group. If he hadn't seen their skills in action, Goemon would have thought that their reputations, as the best thief and gunman and spy of the age, must have been false, that no one that thoughtless and careless could possibly have anything left in their head to dedicate to their work. As it was, it was almost an insult to his own training and restraint, that people this idiotic were capable of being this talented.

The three of them had skills that he did not, knew things that he did not. Was it worth risking his own discipline and honor, to learn that from them?

If they had truly brought him along merely to amuse themselves at his expense, he had no reason to stay.

He bit down, hard, on the small voice that added _, (more, even, a reason to leave, no need to struggle to learn so many new languages, to learn disguises, and driving, and how to fix cars, and everything else that they do so effortlessly. no need to feel so foolish yourself.)_ He ground his teeth until they ached and pounded in his jaw, furious with himself. He would _not_ abandon this path merely because it was difficult. If it proved to be the wrong path, he would leave them without a backwards glance, but it was not going to be because it was too complicated for him, because he'd given up.

As irate with himself now as he'd been with them, he stayed on the hilltop well into the night, until he thought they would've finally gone to bed, and then it was another half an hour to walk back to the small stone cottage they were staying in.

The lights were still glowing through the small, deep-set windows as he approached, but that meant little; they often left the lights on all through the night. Taking care not to make a sound, he slipped off his sandals, and pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him, applying pressure in exactly the right way to keep it from creaking. Hachiman willing, they would all have gone to bed, like most reasonable people at this hour, and he could find a quiet corner, and avoid talking to any of them.

He turned around to find all of three of the thieves crowded into the little tartan-draped living room, clearly waiting for him.

Lord Buddha, what exactly had he done, to earn karma this appalling?

...Well. Killing for hire probably hadn't helped.

"There you are!" Lupin exclaimed. "We were starting to wonder if you'd left for good!"

He should have. Why hadn't he? He didn't owe them anything.

Fujiko and Jigen were looking at him, checking him over, as though they expected him to be injured somehow. The concern in their eyes made him uncomfortable, though he couldn't have said why. After a long moment, they seemed satisfied, and Fujiko leaned back into the overstuffed leather armchair she'd curled herself into.

"Sooooooo..."

Jigen had clearly told them, about how stupid and gullible he'd been. They'd stayed up for the opportunity to hold it over him. If this confirmed his hunch, that he was here merely to be amusing to them, he could turn around and leave right now. He had his sword, nothing else mattered. He'd find a way to get back to Japan, somehow. It couldn't be that hard to find someone who could make him a false passport. Hopefully that person needed someone killed or intimidated, and he could pay for it that way. He could leave, right now.

"...how on earth did you catch the squirrel?!"

Lupin's expression was eager and impressed. Goemon blinked.

"...beg pardon?"

"We don't have any nets!" Lupin exclaimed, looking delighted. "I checked! So, how didja catch it? Was it seriously just with your bare hands?"

"Skill and training," Goemon said shortly. He wasn't in the mood to add anything else - although, this apparently meant they hadn't noticed the five or six pines he'd cut down, in the woods behind the cottage.

Good. Hopefully it would stay that way. He really, really didn't want to talk about it.

Lupin burst into raucous laughter. "I knew inviting you along was a good idea!" he exclaimed. "That's just fantastic!"

"So why did you catch the squirrel in the first place?" Fujiko grinned. "Jigen-chan here has been somewhat reticent about telling us what _exactly_ led to you handing him a squirrel."

This was it, they'd see just how stupid he'd been. No point in lying about it; he'd noticed already that they always seemed to be able to tell when he was being untruthful.

"He...asked for one," Goemon muttered, refusing to make eye contact. "I was handing him tools to repair the car, and he asked for a squirrel. So I got him one."

"That's amazing!"

That was...not the reaction he'd been expecting.

"God, I wish I could've seen that." Fujiko was grinning, sharp and wicked, and he noticed that under his hat and his curtain of dark hair, Jigen was assiduously avoiding eye contact. "I can't believe you actually called him out on it. I heard the yelling, but I missed the show. I'm surprised Jigen didn't start shooting everything in sight, given how trigger happy he usually is!"

"Yeah, yeah," the man in question grumbled. "Keep that up, Fujiko, and I'm only buying bacon and fried foods on the grocery run tomorrow."

"You do that, and I'm stealing your wallet to go get some food I can actually eat."

"I only just got my IDs replaced after Zenigata confiscated the last set of fakes! You touch my wallet, your motorcycle goes missing."

"Mmm," Fujiko hummed, and her smile had razors in it. "Then buy some actual vegetables tomorrow, and I won't _need_ to."

" _Fine_."

"Jigen deadpan," Lupin grinned. "Impossible to tell how many of the threats are real, and how many are bluster."

"I mean all of them," Jigen objected. Both of them pointedly ignored him.

"I should not have taken it so literally," Goemon stated flatly, but his spirits had risen a fraction at Lupin's words. So the fault didn't lie _entirely_ with him, for being foolish. Other people also found it hard to tell when Jigen was being serious or when he was joking. Even Lupin, who knew him better than anyone. "I'll know better next time."

"Oh god, no," Lupin laughed, "keep taking it literally! It might actually make the grumpy jerk _think_ before he snarks, if there's a chance you'll actually take 'im at his word and hand him a squirrel!"

"Hear hear," Fujiko readily agreed. "It's nice to see someone get one over on him for once."

"You both suck," Jigen sighed, resigned, but Goemon was mulling over her words. Rather than thinking he was a fool for believing Jigen, they both thought he'd gone along with the joke, and were congratulating him for his clever response to it. That was...an interpretation that had not occurred to him. If he _had_ realized the request was not meant to be taken seriously, how else would he have responded?

It took him a minute to realize that the other three were still talking.

"...actually get some sleep for once," Jigen was saying. "I know damn well you've been up all night the last two days."

"Fine, fine," Lupin brushed him off cheerfully. "I'm going, no need to nag."

"You'd better be," Jigen informed him, but the edge of his mouth was twitching in a smile. "I know you, if you sneak back down here and keep working, you'll pass out on the table, and I'm not carryin' you back to bed if you're too dense to go yourself."

"I'm going to sleep too," Fujiko grinned, rising from the low armchair in one sleek movement. "I'll make sure he actually makes it into the bed."

"Ooooh, and will you be joining me there, Fujicakes?"

" _Separate_ beds, or there won't be a whole lot of sleep happening."

"Probably a good move," the gunman smirked. She acknowledged it with a sideways smile, and the thief stuck his tongue out at the both of them.

"Screw you too, buddy," Lupin chuckled, being prodded up the stairs by Fujiko.

"Not unless you ask nicely!" Jigen shot back. Goemon watched the two of them until they were out of sight, their feet vanishing up the rough-hewn flight of stairs.

When he turned back around, he was startled to find Jigen watching him with frank interest, every trace of flush and embarrassment gone.

After a long moment, Goemon spoke.

"You knew that I misunderstood."

"Yeah," the gunman shrugged, pulling a battered pack of cigarettes out of his pockets and patting around for a lighter. "But I was a dumbass for sayin' it in the first place, and Lupin laughing at me's nothin' new."

"You were mocking me."

"I wasn't..." He fell silent, puffing on his cigarette. "...nah, that's not totally fair to say. It was a joke, but it wasn't s'pose to be the kind that hurt. My fault if it did anyway." He exhaled a smoke ring, watched it float to the ceiling, then asked, "Need a formal apology?"

An hour ago, the answer would've been yes, with a duel as the alternative. But Jigen had allowed Lupin and Fujiko to tease him with no apparent hesitation, hadn't told them that it was Goemon's imprudence, not his, that had led to the misunderstanding.

"I suppose not."

Jigen fell silent, breathing out soft puffs of tobacco smoke, and Goemon studied him quietly.

He had despised Jigen, at first, for using a gun. It was a shortcut, a dishonorable weapon with no real skill required, and the way the man lazed around, Goemon had been surprised he could stir himself to wield it at all. He had been unable to figure out why Lupin would keep someone so profoundly useless in his employ, and concluded that it was probably for reasons of ego.

That was before. In the time since joining Lupin's gang, Goemon had had cause to try shooting a gun. It was...one of the many skills that he was becoming aware he had yet to master. The weight had been heavy and awkward in his hands, and he hadn't been able to figure out how to sight it. When he had finally pulled the trigger, more by accident than design, the thing had bucked in his hands like a feral animal trying to escape, the bullet flying wide and burying itself in a tree several armspans from where he thought he had been aiming, his ears still ringing from the concussive burst of sound. That was _not_ a skill he wanted to learn any time soon.

Since then, he had watched Jigen more closely, and he had changed his view of him. The marksman did spend a lot of time napping, but if there was an unexpected noise, or any sign of danger, he came alert immediately. He also seemed to spend much of his time quarreling with Lupin, or finding creative ways of insulting the thief, which ruled out the theory that he was kept merely to fluff Lupin's ego. Unless that was a thing that the thief enjoyed, anyway, which was always a possibility; Goemon had a difficult time reading him. More than that though, once Goemon had started paying attention, he began to realize quite how much time Jigen spent maintaining his gun, and practicing his shooting. Against himself, he was impressed. That was the highest form of discipline and training, to do a difficult thing so smoothly and so well that it appeared effortless, and any bystanders would never be able to guess the thousands of hours of preparation that had culminated in that easy grace. Jigen did not train in the same way that he did, but he was committed to his craft, and dedicated skill was something that Goemon was able to respect.

Goemon still wasn't sure of what his own position in this gang was. Lupin was absolutely no daimyo, nor a fit master for a man of his skill and caliber, but...Jigen might possibly have been a ronin like him. A warrior with some honor. What reason, then, did he find to stay here, when they went weeks or months between jobs, and there was so little scope for his skill? What kept him here?

After initially underestimating them both, Goemon had concluded that Lupin and Fujiko were both exceedingly complicated individuals, and he would have to devote months or years to their study. But being unable to understand Jigen had frustrated him. On the surface, Jigen had seemed so simple: a gun for hire, a man of some marketable talent, like him. But he didn't react in any of the ways that Goemon expected, and if he couldn't even comprehend the warrior of the gang, what hope did he have of understanding the group as a whole, or his own place in it?

He glanced up, and realized that Jigen was studying him again, watching him closely from under the brim of his hat, his gunmetal-colored eyes curious.

It was a disquieting thought, that even as he was struggling to understand this group, they had been studying him just as intently.

"It gets easier," Jigen said abruptly.

...and had been having far better success at it than he was, apparently.

"What makes you think I'm having trouble?" he snapped, bristling at having been read so easily. Jigen shrugged, unconcerned.

"The first coupla months...it's a lot to take in," he offered, lighting another cigarette from the butt of the first before stubbing it out. "Lupin's - _heh_ \- he's a little much at the best of times, and everything moves fast. It gets easier."

"I'm _fine_."

"I'm sure," Jigen told him with a wry sideways smile, and though there was nothing in his voice to indicate that he didn't believe him, Goemon was reminded again of just how pointless it was, trying to lie to any of them, even by omission.

"You've been watching me," he stated, his voice flat.

"Of course," the marksman acknowledged easily. "You swore you'd kill Lupin. That's sorta my job, to prevent that. Lup's usually not dumb enough to bring someone who'll burn the place down while we're asleep, but I still like to be sure."

"'Usually'?"

"Always exceptions," the gunman shrugged. "I oughta know, I was pretty close to bein' one of 'em."

And didn't _that_ bring up an interesting array of questions. Goemon eventually settled on, "How _exactly_ did you meet Lupin?"

"I tried to shoot 'im," Jigen said casually. "Didn't work. Didn't work any of the times I tried. He almost got me killed by my boss at the time. Fujiko tried to talk him into pushing me into a scorpion pit. That didn't work either. Eventually it was just easier to team up 'stead of constantly failing to kill each other."

"And Fujiko?"

"When I met 'er, or when Lupin did?"

"Both."

"She drugged me and handed me over to one of my...less than stable exes. I wasn't around when Lupin met her, but from the way he tells it, it involved a cult, almost getting beheaded, almost blowin' each other up, and almost drowning, and it went from there." He paused to exhale a soft puff of smoke. "If you get either one of 'em drunk enough, they'll say some guy named Brad was involved, but they never remember it sober."

"Lupin keeps that many enemies around him?" Goemon exclaimed, aghast. "Does he wish to die that badly?" When he'd dueled the thief, the man hadn't come across as suicidal, but he really couldn't think of any other reason to employ _quite_ that many people who'd regularly tried to kill him.

"Nah," Jigen chuckled softly. "Mostly, he's just good at telling which enemies are gonna stay enemies, and which ones'll do better as friends."

Goemon wasn't altogether sure how to respond to that. "I still haven't decided that I won't kill him," he said at last. He brushed off the faint feeling of discomfort that the statement brought with it. He had no reason to feel at fault; he'd made it clear from the start that his involvement in this group was provisional at best.

"You've had plenty of chances," Jigen pointed out, blunt as a brick to the head. "We're out in the wilderness, and you're always up 'fore the rest of us."

Had this been a test? If so, it was a poorly thought out one. Yes, he could have killed all three of them, but that would have left him stranded in a foreign country where he didn't know the language. More to the point -

"That would hardly be honorable," Goemon gritted out. "I don't kill like some..." His voice trailed off, as he realized who he was talking to.

"Go ahead, say it," the gunman grinned, stubbing out his cigarette.

"...like some thief in the night," he finished defiantly, expecting outrage, or anger. Instead, Jigen just laughed quietly.

"Yep. Which is why you'll do fine here. I think, anyway," he added, shrugging. "We'll see." Goemon frowned.

"You're very optimistic."

"That's not something I'm usually accused of," he chuckled.

"What else should I call it?" the samurai snapped, in a rare display of temper. "I clearly do not fit with the rest of you, after more than a month of trying to make it so."

Jigen studied him for a moment, plainly curious about something, but it was an awkwardly long time before he finally voiced what he was thinking.

"Do me a favor and don't stab me or somethin' for this," he said finally, "but...is there actually anywhere you feel like you _do_ fit in?"

...and that _was_ the ten-million yen question, wasn't it? There were places he had felt like he belonged, before, the temples and dojos where he could set everything else aside and focus only on honing his skill and living up to his name. But he'd lost that sense of security, of belonging, when Master Momochi had tried to have him killed. He'd tried making a place for himself instead, rather than simply finding one, but that...hadn't worked either.

He had studied and drilled since he was first old enough to pick up a shinai, had survived and even thrived under the harshest training regimens. He was young still, yes, by anyone's standards, but after a dozen successful kills, he hadn't thought there was any innocence left in him to lose.

And after Momochi, there wasn't. His mentor trying to kill him had done for the last of it.

Goemon refused to answer that question. He didn't need to anyway. Jigen could surely read it in his face.

"Thing about not fitting in anywhere though, is it's tiring," the gunman told him offhandedly. "Plenty of people will try to...to kill you, or arrest you, just 'cause you're not one of theirs. You hafta work twice as hard for everything. None of us really belong anywhere in particular, but, well...it's easier, when you have other misfits around. Sure, you don't really fit in, but, none of us do."

There was plenty he could have said to that, most of it scathing and ascertaining that he had gotten along perfectly well up till now and he certainly did _not_ need anyone's help, thankyouverymuch, but Jigen was clearly trying to be friendly, after earlier, so he held his tongue. No need to throw good intentions back in his face. Instead he asked, "Did you manage to fix the car?"

"Eh, sorta," Jigen shrugged, scowling. "Good enough to hold until we can get to a real mechanic, anyway. Wish Fujiko'd take a look at it, she's better at that shit than I am. Don't tell her I said that," he added, rolling his eyes. "Her ego doesn't need any help."

Goemon's surprise must have shown on his face, because the marksman snorted. "T'be fair, that's another perk, to the gang. Don't have to be good at everything, when there's someone else who can give you a hand."

That was...a new thought, that he could accept their help, without it reflecting poorly on him. That he didn't have to be able to do _everything_ , in order to be useful.

"By the by, what happened to the squirrel?" Jigen asked casually while he was digesting that idea. "After you handed it to me, I didn't see where it went, but I didn't hear it run away either."

Fighting back a flush that threatened to suffuse his thin face, Goemon raised one arm, letting his sleeve fall open. A pair of cautious, beady eyes in a furry face peered out. After Jigen had dropped it, the squirrel had taken refuge in the sleeve of his kimono, and he hadn't bothered extracting it afterwards, too incensed over the slight.

"Huh," Jigen muttered. He and the squirrel eyed each other cautiously. "Has it been there all day?"

"Yes."

"Well, if the squirrel's been hangin' out with you, that means neither of you've eaten, 'cause I know damn well you didn't have anything at breakfast," he sighed, heaving himself off the couch and heading toward the kitchen. "C'mon."

"I'm fine. One day is no problem."

"That's not what I asked," the hitman said firmly, pulling open the ancient Formica fridge. "One idiot who refuses to take care of 'imself is plenty, I'm not gonna have you forgetting to eat and working until you pass out too."

Goemon wondered if he should point out that he knew _exactly_ how long he could go without eating before it became a problem, and how far he could push himself in the meantime, but he didn't think Jigen was particularly interested in listening.

Before, he might have suspected a trap, to make him forget his training and lose his discipline by coddling him, but after seeing the gunman fuss over Lupin, he was more inclined to think that this was probably just what Jigen did: forcibly looking after the rest of the gang when he didn't think they were taking adequate care of themselves.

It was a strange experience, and not necessarily a pleasant one, to have the gunman nagging him to eat, to have Fujiko checking up on him whenever she hadn't seen him in a while, and Lupin fussing that he didn't seem to be enjoying himself. But there was an undeniable warmth in their efforts to make him a part of their group, however misguided the attempts.

"Lupin made fried rice earlier, there's some of that left if you want it."

That had been another surprise, that Lupin, as the leader of the gang, did most of the cooking, and regularly quarreled with Jigen about whose turn it was to wash the dishes after. Both of them seemed to take it for granted that Fujiko wouldn't do anything that she didn't feel like doing, and rarely included her in the arguments. Honestly, Goemon had expected to wind up doing most of the household chores himself, as the youngest of the group and the newest member of the gang. That was how it usually went with most of his masters and teachers, that the youngest students did the chores and scut work, until they earned more trust and privileges and attention. No one here had ordered him to do much of anything though; the few things they asked of him had all been things like handing Jigen tools earlier, requests too informal and casual to ever be mistaken for orders.

At Jigen's offer though, Goemon's nose wrinkled. Rice, yes. But _fried._

"I think we're outta plain rice," Jigen sighed, seeing his reaction. "Outta most things, actually, I really need to go shopping tomorrow. An apple or something, at least?"

"I suppose I'll eat an apple."

The apples had been a nice surprise. That was one good thing, at least, about this muddy and overcast country, was that apples were _everywhere_ in markets, and bafflingly cheap, once he'd managed to wrap his head around the currency conversion rate. That was something he could actually enjoy.

"Eh, long as you're eating something," the gunman shrugged, tossing him one, and Goemon couldn't resist.

_Swish! Flick!_

Click.

He sheathed the Zantetsuken, and the sliced pieces of apple fell neatly into his hands, the core flicked into the wastebasket across the room. Jigen whistled in admiration, and Goemon couldn't help the small, smug smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He spent so much time feeling out of place, extraneous, chafing at the long periods between heists; it was a pleasant change, to do something he was good at and confident in instead, and be appreciated for it.

Jigen gave him a sideways smile as Goemon bit into one of the apple slices, and stirred the container of leftover rice with a pair of chopsticks. "Pain in the neck that this place is too old to have a microwave," he grumbled, dumping the contents into a frying pan, but Goemon was beginning to be able to read him, at least a little, and he didn't think the marksman was actually angry. It seemed as though he just enjoyed complaining, some days. Odd, and a waste of energy, but a fairly harmless habit.

While he was reheating the rice, Goemon finally eased the squirrel out of his sleeve, and set it in the empty sink. It sat up, it tiny forepaws cocked and its tail fluffed, chittering at him, while he finished his apple. Jigen had a point; the squirrel had been hiding in his kimono all day, and was probably hungry by this point. A small paper bag on the cluttered kitchen table had a stylized picture of almonds on it, so Goemon tipped the contents into the sink in front of the rodent. It sniffed the brown balls cautiously. Goemon didn't think they looked much like nuts, but they apparently met with the squirrel's approval, because after a moment's consideration, it squeaked gleefully, seized one of the things in it paws, and began gnawing at it.

Feeling unusually at peace, Goemon watched it finish that almond, and immediately pick up another. He could hear the soft clatter from behind him as Jigen finished heating the rice and tipped it back into the battered tupperware, the gentle creak of his footsteps as the gunman strolled back over to him. He still didn't feel like he belonged here, but he felt...less out of place than he had before, at least. If he could just keep this feeling, this composure, he would be able stick it out long enough to learn what he needed to, and he could decide then whether he should leave or stay, without it reflecting badly on him, or being a result of his own inadequacies.

Beside him, Jigen paused, frowned faintly, the chopsticks halfway to his mouth.

"Are those Fujiko's chocolate almonds?"

...and Goemon was right back to feeling hopelessly out of place and unsuited.

"Probably," he groaned. Another blunder. He'd taken something he had no right to from another member of the group, and he would need to make it right, but replacing them would require money, and a way to get into town, and an understanding of English, none of which he had. He would have to owe Fujiko something instead, his services in whatever she asked of him. _Another stupid, preventable mistake._

"Don't worry 'bout it," Jigen chuckled, watching the squirrel devour almond after almond. "I'll add it to the grocery list, and if she notices before I'm back, just say it was my fault, she's always annoyed at me anyway."

"I can't blame you," Goemon told him, appalled. "The error was mine."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, reaching into the sink to pet the squirrel. The reddish-brown little rodent stopped to sniff his hand, decided he posed no threat, and went back to cramming almonds into its cheeks while Jigen stroked its ears. "It's really not a big deal though. If we have to put up with her grabbing the loot and ditching us, she can stand to wait an hour or two. 'Sides," he grinned, as the squirrel rubbed briefly against his hand before grabbing another nut, "this thing's pretty cute. She can share."

Goemon still didn't feel completely right about it, but Jigen's reassurance helped quiet at least a little of his reprehension, and he allowed himself the soft hope that maybe today had simply been a fluke. Maybe things would actually improve to the point of being tolerable.

It occurred to him - he didn't have a real reason to leave, yet. If he was going to stay for the time being, he really ought to make use of it, and learn what he could from them.

English first. They seemed to use English quite often, and they were currently in a country that spoke it, it just made sense. Then French. From what he'd heard them talk about, they spent a fair amount of time in France. French would be useful. Disguises, too. That had to be one of the first things he practiced, it was a skill he'd be able to use in his own work.

"Those things the squirrel's eating," he said abruptly. "What are they called in English?"

Jigen's eyebrows rose at that. "Chocolate almonds."

Goemon was silent, rolling the unfamiliar words around in his head. He could sound out the syllables, but the words themselves were still just meaningless sounds. He'd have to keep practicing it, to be able to connect the strings of syllables to a real object and meaning. "May I accompany you tomorrow?" he asked finally. "To get more? I would like to practice my disguises."

"Yeah, if you want," the gunman told him. "We can start simple. Not a bad way to practice English either," he added, not unkindly. "Simple nouns are always easiest to start with, an' it's useful, to know the words for what you want to eat. Saves a lotta trouble later."

Goemon nodded, silent once again. The squirrel, noticeably plumper now, had finished most of the almonds, and curled up around the remaining few on the age-stained porcelain, clearly intending to sleep there.

"The squirrel doesn't seem to want to leave," he pointed out cautiously. He'd been the one to bring it inside, and probably he should put it outside again, but after making mistake after mistake today, he really was not in a mood to make any more decisions tonight.

"Eh, I'll leave the kitchen window open," Jigen yawned. "It can leave when it wants to." He seemed to think that that settled it neatly enough, and wished Goemon a good night before ambling off to bed himself.

Despite Jigen's easy wishes, it had not especially been a good night, the samurai thought, finding a comfortable spot in the living room to sit and meditate. But it hadn't been as bad a night as he'd initially thought either. He might be able to work with this.

****************************************

Lupin was delighted that Goemon wanted to learn how their disguises worked, and Jigen had had to point out that they were going to a small grocer's in a backwoods town, and anything too extravagant would attract _almost_ as much notice as a samurai and a cowboy gangster showing up. "That sounds like the setup to a joke!" Lupin had cracked, but he had eventually, reluctantly, relented. This had to be something he did a dozen times a week, crafting disguises, but at the prospect, he still got as excited as a child handed a present, almost bouncing with glee. It was unbecoming, Goemon thought, that an adult and a man of his reputation pouted like a child when Jigen nixed his proposal of burn scarring, but at the same time, his enthusiasm...was somewhat endearing. Goemon took pride and satisfaction in what he did, certainly, but it was something else entirely, to see Lupin's obvious joy in plotting heists and putting together disguises, even for something as simple as a trip to the store. He clearly _loved_ what he did. 

In the end, the two of them had been bundled into thick woolen sweaters that smelled faintly of woodsmoke, with a little stage makeup to soften Goemon's severe features. Jigen had swapped his fedora out for a knit cap and his customary cigarette for a briarwood pipe clenched between his teeth, Lupin had tucked Goemon's ink spill of hair into an old derby cap, and after giving them a quick once-over, the thief had declared himself satisfied.

_Lesson one: people see what they expect to see._ As long as you didn't give them a reason to feel suspicion, most people, excepting Zenigata, wouldn't look too closely. In principle, it wasn't terribly different from what he'd learned with the Iga clan, but he could tell already that Lupin's artistry in disguises came from his ability to read, clear as kanji, what would attract only as much attention as he wanted in any situation. He thought he looked somewhat ridiculous, and this was _not_ what he'd have thought of as a disguise, but from what little he'd seen of the country, he and Jigen would look exactly like everyone else out running errands, sweaters and hats pulled against the chill drizzle.

They were almost out the door when Fujiko leaned out of the kitchen, a frown pulling her pretty features out of alignment.

"Care to explain," she glowered at Jigen, "where my almonds went?"

"Why are you immediately blaming me?! You know I don't like sweets!"

"Lupin wouldn't be stupid enough to take something of mine and lie about it," she dismissed, "and he already said it wasn't him."

"It was my fault," Goemon admitted at once. "I gave them to the squirrel last night, I didn't realize they were yours."

Fujiko's expression softened at his words, though she tried to hide it.

"Well, just be sure to pick more up in town then," she sniffed, making a show of turning away.

"Oh, I see. So it's fine if Goemon does it?" Jigen drawled, teasing her. "But if I was the one who took 'em, I get the third degree?"

"Yeah," Fujiko smirked back. "He's much cuter than you, so he can get away with more."

"I 'spose I can't argue that," the gunman admitted, a sideways grin stamped across his sharp features.

_Degenerates, all of them!_ But the thought didn't carry the sense of alarm it really ought to have, and Goemon didn't try to immediately leave. Instead, he followed Jigen out to the car.

The gunman paused to check the engine one more time, as if hoping that maybe, this time, the source of the mysterious clunking noises would reveal itself to him. "Could use a wrench," he muttered, mostly to himself, but Goemon caught the way his eyes flicked towards him right before he asked -

"...or a squirrel?"

"I think it finally wandered off," the swordsman said after a moment's thought. At any rate, it hadn't been in the sink when he'd woken up. "If you need another, you shall have to go catch it yourself."

There was a long pause, and he wondered if he'd said the wrong thing, and then he heard Jigen give a soft huff through his nose, laughing, and he decided that it might be all right after all.

"Heh. 'Spose that's fair. Probably won't need one for this patch job anyway," the gunman smirked, slamming the hood closed and wiping his hands on an oil rag. "Let's go get groceries."

****************************************

Groceries had gone...well. Better than he expected. No one had looked too closely at their disguises, and even if he couldn't understand a word of English uttered in the locals' thick brogue, he had at least been able to make himself understood. He was starting to remember the English words for important things, like _sword_ and _tea_ and _no_ , and it had been a pleasant surprise to find that salmon was local to the area. Jigen had agreed to purchase several packages of it. And they had acquired more chocolate almonds for Fujiko. That bit was important.

Goemon helped Jigen get the bags into the kitchen, then changed back into his normal clothes and slipped away to find a spot to be alone for a while. The hilltop yesterday had been nice...but instead, he chose a small rocky outcropping in the woods, out of sight, but close enough that he could hear the rise and fall of voices through the open windows. He stayed there most of the day, emptying his thoughts into the ringing, vast clear space of meditation and instinct and awareness, and doing a better job of it than yesterday, at least. Periodically, he'd hear the small, crunching steps of something diminutive and furry scrambling for cover, or the clipped rustle of birds wings, overlaying the soft flow of voices and laughter from the cottage. From this distance, it was not altogether unpleasant.

"Oy! Goemon! There's dinner if you're hungry!"

Lupin's voice. He opened his eyes, and was surprised to find that it was dusk already.

Goemon considered the offer for a few minutes, before picking up his sword and padding back in the direction he knew the cottage to be. It was unlikely to be food he wanted to eat, but with his resolution to understand this strange little group, he supposed he could spare twenty minutes or so around them.

The room he walked into was loosely organized chaos, Lupin and Jigen squabbling over whether the carrots had been cooked too long, Fujiko trying to keep her plate away from the fighting, and the kettle whistling on the stove. He had expected to sit down without causing any greater commotion, but all three of them immediately turned to look at him.

"Here, there's plain rice," Lupin declared shoving a bowl into his hands. "Salmon's on the table, and tea should be ready soon."

_Oh._ They had...made this specifically for him. The rest of them had some sort of potato and vegetable mix. They had only made rice because they knew he'd prefer it.

Silently, Goemon nodded a thank you, sat down, and helped himself to some of the salmon, as Jigen and Lupin went back to arguing about whose recipe was better. Fujiko rolled her eyes, pushed the pot of tea towards him, and went back to telling them that they were both wrong.

The rest of the evening proceeded much as he'd come to expect, with the dishes being cleaned up and everyone settling into whatever their preferred activity was, all of it in and around and involving considerable fuss and argument. After the fracas had settled and Fujiko and Lupin had wandered upstairs, not trying very hard to keep their eyes - or their hands - off each other, Jigen began disassembling and cleaning his gun, and Goemon decided to care for his sword, rather than going straight back to meditating. Neither of them spoke, but they didn't need to. It was a companionable feeling, Goemon decided, though not in a way that he would usually recognize. He'd trained and fought alongside plenty of other warriors, had shared food and battle and a roof with them and called them his companions, but this...this was different. Not bad, just...different, in a way that he couldn't quite quantify yet. He was still mulling that over, carefully wiping oil along the gleaming, feathered edge of his sword, when he heard a rap at the window glass.

Both of them froze. Only Jigen's hand stirred, flicking the cylinder back into his gun, but Goemon moved first, shifting into a crouch and ghosting across the rough wood floor to the small, deep-set window. "Goemon," the gunman murmured, warning, but he ignored it. He may not truly be one of them, rather doubted that he ever would be, but he was still a part of this group until further notice, and as such, it was his duty, to protect all three of them against anything else that might threaten.

Goemon edged closer, and hissed in frustration. The glass panes in the windows were old and rippled, distorting his view of any incoming threat or attack... Then his eyes made sense of what he was seeing, and if he had been someone else, he might've laughed.

"The squirrel is back," he announced, sheathing his sword, and across the room, Jigen visibly relaxed, allowed himself a wry smile for having been alarmed by a visiting rodent. Goemon opened the window, and the squirrel hopped inside, chittering and glancing towards the kitchen expectantly before looking back at him.

For a moment, the samurai and the squirrel simply stared at each other.

"In theory," he asked finally, "if the squirrel were to eat the chocolate almonds again, we would be forced to go into town again tomorrow to get more, yes?"

Jigen quirked his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Hmmmm, I suppose we would," he drawled, stubbing out his cigarette in the cracked ceramic ashtray. "Dear oh dear."

In spite of himself, Goemon cracked a small smile.

"You just enjoy annoying Fujiko."

"It's an occasional perk of the job," the gunman admitted with a sardonic grin. "You wanna try fake beards tomorrow? That's kind of a fun one to do."

"All right," he decided, after a moment's thought, and let the squirrel scramble onto his palm.

As he dug out the bag of chocolate almonds, the thought occurred to him that joining the Lupin gang may well be the most rigorous training he had yet undergone. To his own surprise, it was an appealing idea.

When you phrased it like that, it became a challenge. And he would meet it head-on.

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: iSaphura drew a thoroughly awesome illustration of Goemon and Squirrel, which can be found here. I am delighted to have inspired something so adorable!
> 
> https://saphura.tumblr.com/post/187200173359/if-you-havent-read-in-strange-company-by-liz
> 
> So writing Jigen and Goemon and animals is just my thing now I guess...?
> 
> I enjoy the irony of Jigen wearing a fake beard.
> 
> Origin stories are mishmosh of First Contact, Woman Called Fujiko Mine, and anything else that popped into my head. =)
> 
> In the US and most of western Europe, apples are dirt cheap; they're the fruit that you find banks and cheap breakfasts giving away for free. On my first visit to Japan though, I was pretty gobsmacked to find grocery stores selling apples for about the equivalent of five US dollars each. As far as Japan seems to be concerned, apples are treats, practically candy. On the other hand though, a couple of Boyfriend's Japanese friends nearly wet themselves laughing when they heard what Americans pay for lychees and rambutans... I guess every country has those couple of fruits that are going to be super expensive no matter what.
> 
> Relating to squirrels and chocolate - my grandma on my dad's side worked at Mars Candy Company for years. When my dad was growing up, the house was always full of candy bars that she'd bring home from work. One of my aunts had noticed a squirrel that was always hanging around the school bus stop, and decided to try feeding it. She didn't have any peanuts or plain nuts, but she had plenty of Snickers bars, and those had peanuts in them, so that would work, right? Well, the squirrel greatly enjoyed the candy bar pieces. Soon she was feeding several squirrels every morning. This went just fine for a couple of months, until one morning she forgot to bring a Snickers with her. The squirrels were waiting for their chocolate fix. When they realized that my aunt wasn't gonna make with the sugary goodness, they decided to investigate her bag themselves. Maybe she had a candy bar she just wasn't sharing. Long story short, my crying six-year-old aunt wound up being chased down the street by a pack of sugar-crazed squirrels.


End file.
